


Fur and Feather

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes everything goes wrong and the only proper pick-me-up is one (or several) pints in the next pub. And sometimes an evening in a pub is only the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fur and Feather

Harry stared down at his pint. It was his fourth now and nearly empty already. He sighed. Even the beer wasn't improving this crappy day - though Harry certainly wouldn't stop hoping. The patron next to Harry sighed too, just as deeply, heartfelt, and alcohol-sodden. Harry turned his head to give his co-sufferer a sympathetic nod.

"Malfoy!" He startled the other patron.

"Potter!"

Despite working together in Auror training for nearly two years now, his and Malfoy's mutual animosity had never completely vanished. Oh, who was he kidding? There had been five occasions where they had had to be pulled apart, three visits to the training camp's infirmary and whenever they saw each other they both mentally counted the verbal hits they landed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same, Potthead. You look dreadful. Why don't you go and stuff your head into the toilet so I won't have to see your ugly mug anymore."

"Why don't you fuck off, Malfoy? You're poisoning the air I'm trying to breathe." They glared at each other for a couple of seconds, before Harry sighed and turned away from Malfoy and back to his pint. Not even insulting Malfoy could lift his damn mood. Usually he just had to turn to Malfoy for a good fight and everything would be alright again. But not today. Oh no, this weighed far too heavy on his soul.

A sigh from his right made him glance at the blond – quickly, _not_ lingering, mind you – and he found that Malfoy didn't look too happy either. He wondered what had caused that mood in Malfoy. Maybe his boyfriend had dumped him. Harry frowned. Did Malfoy have a boyfriend? Everyone knew that Malfoy was gay – just like everyone knew that Harry was, too. They had both outed themselves whilst drunk at a New Years Eve party about two years ago, but neither of them had considered that a reason to bond over.

"Your boyfriend left you?" Harry mumbled into his pint and licked the last bit of beer-foam off of the rim of the glass. A bit got onto his nose – not that he noticed.

"What boyfriend?" Malfoy downed his beer and raised his hand. His glass was full again in a matter of seconds. Magic was so wonderful!

Harry nodded to himself. So there wasn't a boyfriend. Interesting. "Why interesting?" Harry wondered aloud and his eyes widened as much as they were still able to at that thought.

"Huh?" Malfoy blinked at him owlishly. "You suck, Potter."

"Uh-huh." Harry waved his hand for a refill. At least he was slowly forgetting the humiliation of today's training session. Animagus Training had been something the whole group had been excited over for weeks now. It had taken ages to get all the Auror trainees tested and to determine who exactly was talented enough for 'The Special Training Unit'. In the end there had been fifteen out of forty who had been able to attend Animagus Training.

They had started out with normal and temporally restricted self-transfiguration. Had gone over the basic principals with their instructors, had read this text or that until none of them had been really _that_ into Animagus training anymore. At least until three days ago, when it had been announced that the actual Animagus transformations would be attempted this week.

One or two of their group had found their forms easily enough. There had been a falcon flying around, a lynx trying to chase a mouse ... all perfectly good animals for an Auror. But it Harry had needed more time to find his form that he would have liked. In the end he had blamed it failure on everyone else (especially Malfoy) distracting him and found himself an empty room to keep on trying there.

Harry had dreamt for ages of becoming an Animagus. Ever since he had learned that his dad and Sirius had been Animagi (he liked to ignore the former existence of Peter completely) he had dreamt of acquiring his own form. In his mind he had become a dog, a lion, an eagle, a bear – even once a pony, though he didn't like to think about that. But his Animagus form had been -

"Potter!" Malfoy indignant voice pulled Harry out of his musings. "You are boring. You haven't been listening."

"I haven't?" Harry turned towards Malfoy on his stool. Their knees bumped against each other – not that either of them noticed. "Well, what did you say? Have you been talking about your hair again?"

"Nooo!" Malfoy took a hefty draught from his pint. Harry didn't know why Malfoy was so defensive – he really had nice hair. "I have -" Malfoy hiccupped, "have been telling you about -" He stopped and furrowed his brow, then shrugged. Who cared anyway? Apparently not Malfoy, because he just ordered two Firewhiskeys for them and let go of whatever he wanted to say.

 

******

 

The first thing that told Harry that he was in fact awake was the throbbing headache that paralysed him. The second was that it felt like something had died in his mouth. And the third and final was the shock he experienced when skin brushed against his arm. Harry's eyes flew open and with dread filling his bones he turned his head and looked at the person he was sharing the bed with.

Their panicked shrieks resounded in the room and mere seconds later the world seemed to be much bigger around Harry and he was facing a hamster.

"Oh bollocks!" Harry quacked. "I've turned into an Animagus in front of Malfoy!" This was it. From this minute on Harry would be the laughing stock of the whole trainee group. Everyone would point at him – even more than now – and they would be making fun of him to his face and behind his back. Harry flapped his wings and quacked again.

Harry was ready to throw himself out of the nearest window (not that it would have been of much use, given that he could fly in this form), when his alcohol-addled brain caught up with the fact that the hamster had familiar-looking silvery-blonde fur. And it was looking as pissed off as Harry felt.

"Well, fuck me blind and call me Butters. Malfoy is a bloody hamster."

 

******

 

They hadn't talked at all. When they had transformed back into their human forms both of them had grabbed their clothes (because, yes, they had been starkers), dressed and hurried towards the training site as quickly as they could. They had been late already and thanks to them being extremely hungover their performance had been so bad that the instructor had made it their punishment to scrub the training room after practice was over.

The first few minutes were spent in silence. Harry worked on the left side on the room, Malfoy on the right, barely acknowledging each other's presence. This seemed to satisfy the instructor, who had stayed behind to make sure they wouldn't kill each other, and he left.

"Finally!" Malfoy gasped and flopped down onto his back. "Merlin, I feel so sick. I am about to die!" Usually Harry would have been inclined to call Malfoy a prissy idiot, but at the moment he could only groan in agreement.

At least he had managed not to sick up all over the floor. They would have made him clean it all up by hand! And that just wasn't on. "Never again!" Harry swore and covered his face with his arms, trying to block the light out.

They lay still for a couple more minutes, careful not to move too much, and Harry tried to remember what Malfoy looked like naked. And then he mentally kicked himself for thinking about that.

"Er, Potter?" Malfoy's voice wormed its way between the hands that Malfoy had used to cover his face with. "Did we fuck?"

Harry had wondered about that, too. He really hadn't got a concrete answer for that, he realised. What if they had? What would they do then? How would they act? You couldn't just sleep with your arch-nemesis and then go on as if nothing had happened. Something was sure to change. "I ... I don't feel sore down there..." Harry admitted hesitantly and dared to glance at Malfoy.

"Me either." Shared relief flooded the room. "So I guess this means that we haven't fucked."

Harry nodded at that.

"Well, good. Potter? We're not going to talk about any of this ever again."

Harry nodded again. He was only too happy to agree. No word about the shared bed and no word about their Animagus forms.

"And everything will get back to normal."

 

******

 

Only it didn't. A week passed without the two of them fighting and Harry wondered if people were starting to notice. Had Hermione been here she would definitely have seen that something in their dynamics had changed. But she wasn't and none of the others said anything.

And so it happened that, after an extensive round of track and field fight training, Harry and Malfoy found themselves alone in the locker room. Careful not to look at Draco, who was still wearing nothing but his towel, Harry pulled his jeans on. He had no clue what to say. Because even though he and Malfoy hadn't fought they hadn't had any real interaction either. Harry found he actually missed the regular fights and the verbal duels. He cleared his throat.

"Are you dying over there?" Malfoy asked without turning away from the mirror he was standing in front of.

It was hard for Harry to tear his eyes away from the small of Malfoy's back. He had these two cute, little dents there that just begged to be licked and – Harry cleared his throat again. "Ah, no. I'm ... I'm fine. Really."

"Good. I didn't fancy trying resuscitation on you." Malfoy pulled his towel off and went over to his locker.

Harry quickly started rummaging in his backpack for a t-shirt that was in fact lying right next to him on the bench and snorted. "That might be because you totally sucked arse at resuscitation. I saw you trying on that practice-doll – it looked like you were blowing up a balloon!"

At that Malfoy – now dressed – turned around. Their eyes met and, after a short staring contest, they smirk-grinned at each other.

"You fancy a coffee, Potter? I am dead-tired after this crap and I don't like sitting in cafés all on my own."

Harry closed his locker and swung his backpack over his back. "Why's that? Can't you even spend a couple of minutes without anyone telling you how gorgeous you are?"

"So you think I'm gorgeous?" Malfoy sent him a smirk as they left the locker rooms.

"You wish."

 

******

 

Later, when Harry was back home, cooking dinner for himself, he couldn't help but wonder how easy it had been to spend the afternoon with Malfoy. It was weird, really. They had snarked at each other, had called each other names and had threatened each other with hexes. Malfoy had sweetened his Mocha with too much sugar and Harry had spiced his Mocchacino with so much cinnamon that even Malfoy had called him disgusting.

Harry hadn't had so much fun in ages.

But what had changed? What had made them go from sworn enemies to ... whatever they were now? It couldn't have been just because of the Animagus thing. Sure, they had silently sworn secrecy to each other, but that alone could never be enough to _get on_.

Harry shuddered as he thought of the day that he would have to reveal his Duck-self to his fellow trainees. Little did he know that day wasn't far off. But until then Harry enjoyed his innocent discovery that people could indeed change.

Harry took the pan with the gnocchi, the tomatoes and the slightly molten mozzarella to the living room and sat down on the couch where he started to eat. Malfoy had been surprisingly forward with information on himself. For the first time since they had met Harry really got the feeling that he knew Draco Malfoy. Even if they had only talked about superficial things like training, coffee, or favourite chocolate flavours – Malfoy liked really dark chocolate with chilli pieces inside and Honeyduke's Chocolate Bars with the Special Surprise that he claimed Harry should try – Harry had got to know more personal things about Malfoy than ever before.

 

******

 

It happened quite naturally. The morning's training session had ended and the whole group started walking over to the canteen to stuff themselves with the most unhealthy food they could find. Somehow Harry and Malfoy had ended up walking next to each other, arguing over the pros and cons of aiming stunners at the victim's head or torso.

"I told you, Potter! If you want them to be really effective you need to hit the head!" Malfoy told him, pointing widely at his own head before he took one of the ugly, grey trays.

"No, you don't! Just think of everything that could happen! They could be permanently damaged!" Harry's protest came with equal fervour.

"You mean they could become retarded?" Malfoy snorted. "As if charging against a trained Auror wasn't already retarded enough. And even if they were damaged, they'd deserve it!"

"What if the victim of your stunner was an innocent person?" Harry put a hand on his hips and looked at Malfoy sternly with a Hermione-worthy look before turning to the man behind the counter. Harry's brow furrowed and then he pointed at an only slightly suspicious looking lasagna.

"Everyone is guilty of something!" Malfoy declared as they took their trays over to a free table.

Harry shrugged and shoved a fork full of food into his mouth. "But still," he said over his chewing. Malfoy grimaced in disgust. "Risking causing brain damage is unnecessary. Besides, if you really wanted to get to the fucker you'd aim at his privates."

They shared a solemn shudder.

 

******

 

"Oy, Harry!" Ron jogged over to Harry as soon as Malfoy had left for the loo. Ron stopped short next to him and gave Harry a critical once-over. Harry noticed Ron was checking off the injury list that had been drilled into them right at the beginning of their Auror training. "Why did you sit with _him_? I kept you a seat at our table. And I called for you."

Harry put his and Malfoy's plates with the other dirty dishes and shrugged. "Sorry, didn't hear you."

"Harry." Ron's voice was grave and he put his arm around Harry's shoulders, slowly steering him out of the canteen and towards the teaching building, where their next class would be held. "I'm worried about you. You just spent the whole lunch break with Malfoy without trying to kill him even once."

"Well -"

"And you didn't try to beat him up all week! Nor did he hex you in the back!"

"Malfoy's not so bad."

"Harry! That's Malfoy we're talking about!"

Harry dislodged Ron's arm and frowned at him. "Yeah, so? Listen, he and I talked and ..." _Do not tell Ron about the Animagus thing. Do not tell Ron anything. Malfoy will hate you and you will hate yourself and then everything will go down the drain. Don't say anything about the Animagus fuck up!_ "We're getting on."

"Why? Harry, you've hated each other's guts since school!"

"We're grown-ups now. He and I did that Animagus thing together and -"

"Don't tell me you bonded! I mean, you're both gay and all, but -"

"Nah. We just don't hate each other anymore." Harry just hoped that this was true.

 

******

 

"You told him!" Malfoy hissed into Harry's ear just as Harry was about to enter the classroom. It wasn't hard to guess that Malfoy was royally pissed off – only Harry couldn't really understand why. Malfoy's elbow poked uncomfortably into Harry's ribs as he pressed Harry against the wall. "I thought we agreed on not telling _anybody_!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"The Thing! I saw you and Weasley laughing!" Malfoy growled and pressed harder with his elbow.

"That had nothing to do with The Thing!" Harry pushed Malfoy off and rubbed his ribs. "I wouldn't tell him about that. Do you think I'd like him to know about -" Harry gesticulated wildly. His imitation of a flying duck looked rather like a choking swan. "Honestly, can't you even make sure that you're angry about the right thing?"

Malfoy rubbed the back of his neck and had the decency to look sheepish. "Well, it looked like..."

Harry waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. You should have more trust in me, you know?" He rammed his elbow into Malfoy's side for good measure and took his seat in the classroom. Malfoy followed after he had managed to get his breath back.

 

******

 

Harry rested his head against the cool tiles of his shower and let the hot water rain down onto his back. It was unbelievable what a day of training could do to you. What he needed now was some relaxation.

He reached down with his hand still slippery with shower-gel and ran his palm over his quickly hardening cock. A low moan escaped his lips and he smiled, already feeling how the tension bled from his shoulders and collected downwards. His fingers curled up around his erection and he slowly started to move his hand.

Images of twisting, naked bodies flew through his head until he settled onto his favourite wanking fantasy – two men, so close that their sweat was mingling. One pressed against the wall, his arse bare to the other. Harry imagined he was the one standing behind the man, trusting into him. He could practically feel the man's arse around his cock, him pushing back against Harry. The man would moan – and Harry did too, moving his hand faster, harder, imitating the rhythm he and his mystery partner would have.

He could see himself reaching up and grabbing the man's blond hair, just as they were about to shoot –

"Draco!" he gasped and came. Harry rested his forehead exhaustedly against the tiles again and a broad smile crept over his face in a post-orgasmic haze. It was only when his breathing slowly got back to normal and that he noted that the water had gone cold, that Harry realised what had happened. "Well. Fuck," he said, thinking of blond hair, and got out of the shower.

 

******

 

Thank God it was Sunday, Harry thought and sighed. He was still lying in bed and the urge to piss wasn't yet strong enough to make him leave his warm and cosy bed. He couldn't get yesterday's wanking session out of his mind. His fantasy of the two men roughly fucking against a wall hadn't been new at all – had in fact featured in his mind for over a year already – but Malfoy had been new.

Draco. He should call him Draco. Harry was sure that somewhere an etiquette existed about this sort of thing, saying that you had to refer to people you wanked over with their first name. God, that felt weird. Draco.

Harry let the name roll over his tongue a couple of times, testing how it would sound out loud. What would _Draco_ say to Harry using his given name? Would he ask questions that Harry didn't like to answer? Like _'Why the bloody fuck are you using my first name, Potter? Did I give you the permission?'_ and Harry would have to answer _'I . . . you . . . and my cock . . . in the shower.'_. God, how embarrassing.

Maybe his mind would stop displaying images of Draco though and they could continue being something akin to mates (because they were, weren't they?). Maybe Harry wouldn't fancy Draco anymore and maybe the thought of ramming his cock up Draco's arse wouldn't –

Nope. Definitely still got him hard faster than you could perform a _Swish-and-Flick_. With a half-hearted sigh Harry plunged his hand down under his duvet.

 

******

 

Harry stared moodily at a patch of wall, just managing to refrain from kicking it. This day was rapidly going down the drain! It hadn't started out bad. The sun had been shining, Ron had made a couple of naff jokes and there had been steak and kidney pie and chips for lunch. But of course things hadn't been allowed to stay that well. There just had to be that note, hanging there all innocent on the black board, saying –

"Nine circles of bloody hell!" Draco – what a different sound that was! - stormed into the room, letting loose several strings of unrepeatable curses.

"I take it you saw the notice?" Harry said in his best (and yet completely genuine) tones of impending doom.

Draco whirled around, glaring at Harry for a moment before he started pacing. "Yes! I can't believe they are doing this to us! Making us show our Animagus forms to the rest of the trainees so we can start developing teamwork techniques between Animagi and normal Aurors! Argh!" Draco whipped out his wand and set the nearest table on fire.

"How long do we have left to live?"

"Three days. Three days until we're the laughing stock of the whole camp." Draco slumped down next to Harry. "You'd think they would keep our forms secret. For undercover missions and such."

"I think they use secrecy charms on every mission, so the Animagi are safe. Maybe they'll do it on the knowledge of our forms as well, so nobody can pass on their knowledge." Harry had planned on sounding hopeful, but instead his words came out gloomy.

"We should be so lucky."

"Is there any way around this?" Harry asked. "I mean, couldn't we just find new Animagus forms?"

"No, you dunderhead. The whole point is that your Animagus form is your 'inner animal'."

Harry cringed. What did 'duck' say about his character? It definitely wasn't manly. Oh, his duck form was male – he had checked that out in the library. His feathers on his head were bright green, after all, just like his eyes. But _manly_? A lion would have been manly!

"I think I'll resign," Draco said dramatically.

"You won't."

"I think I will."

"I'm not going to present myself to them alone."

"Then you'll have to resign too."

"I won't. And you won't either."

"Then I'll have to kill everyone who laughs about me."

"Sounds good. I'll help you."

 

******

 

Harry glared at the instructor and his fellow trainees too for good measure before transforming. He felt himself melt away, felt feathers sprout and his nose forming a beak.

"Quack!" Duck-Harry exclaimed, refusing to look at the others. And then he heard it. The first laugh that would surely set off a chain-reaction. He didn't think – he just reacted, jumping and flying forward at the same time, while he barely registered that Hamster-Draco, who had transformed at the same time as Harry had, did the same, only closer to the ground.

Harry closed his beak around the laughing offender's nose, pinching as hard as he could and immediately getting a panicked shriek as a result. Another followed, probably set off by the hamster teeth that were drilling themselves into the laugher's leg.

By the time they were finished nobody dared to laugh anymore.

 

******

 

Everything had begun with a simple conversation after training. They had had to clean up the rooms again as a punishment for attacking Ron while being in their Animagus forms and had been about finished.

_"How are you going to spend your evening?" Draco had asked and levitated the training mats back into the storage room. _

"Watching the telly, eating take-away, probably," Harry had said, trying to sound casual.

"What's telly?" Draco had then asked and they had locked the training room.

"Moving pictures with sound."

Draco had thought about that for a minute, rubbing his chin. "You should show that to me some time."

This was how they ended up sitting on Harry's couch, watching South Park. The Chinese take-away boxes lay empty on the table, right next to the packs of green tea they had had to go with the food, and Eric Cartman was squeaking "Screw you, guys. I'm going home!" before throwing a fit.

Harry tried not to think of how close Draco actually was. Or about how good he smelled or about how Harry could feel warmth radiating from Draco. It was kind of hard though, with his cock twitching every now and then and his heart trying to beat through his chest. There was only one solution left to him:

"You know, Cartman kinda reminds me of someone," Harry teased and smirked at Draco, who responded quickly with jabbing his pointy elbow hard into Harry's side.

"I was never fat!"

"But spoilt," Harry's elbow poked Draco's ribs in revenge, but he hadn't counted on Draco full-body countering his attack. A "Whoof!" escaped Harry's lips as Draco landed on top of him, attacking him with his pointy knees and elbows. "Stop it!"

"Surrender!" Draco shouted gleefully, morphing the pokes to tickles. Harry squirmed, gasped and laughed at the same time.

"I give in, I give in!" he cried and pretended not to notice that his and Draco's groins weren't far away from each other anymore. _Just a bit – just a bit – no, don't stop!_

Draco's tickling stopped and Harry opened his eyes, meeting Draco's. Draco licked his lips, his pupils darting from Harry's mouth to Harry's eyes and back again, and he flushed. And then suddenly his lips were on Harry's and Harry parted his, letting their tongues touch for the first time.

One of them moaned – or maybe both of them did – and then there was Harry's hand in Draco's soft hair and Draco was clutching at Harry's shoulder.

"Wanted to do this for ages," Draco murmured against Harry's throat, placing little kisses on Harry's Adam's apple. The admission had Harry stopping for about a second, thinking that maybe he hadn't been so mental to dream of Draco after all, before he let his hand wander slowly from Draco's back to his bum. Draco gasped as Harry squeezed.

Neither of them asked senseless 'Are you sure's or questioned what they were doing. It was as clear as the sun that they wanted each other – details could be talked about later. Harry pulled Draco in for another kiss, moving his pelvis up so Draco could feel how aroused he was. Draco was just as hard as he was and both of them groaned into the kiss.

Thinking that any moment now he'd burst out of his trousers Harry reached down and freed his cock, gasping in relief. Draco's hand closed around his and they pumped together for a few times, before Draco pushed his hand into his robes.

"Want you," he rasped and Harry swallowed, parting his legs slightly to give them a bit more room. Draco took Harry's hand, rubbing and holding their cocks together.

"Want you, too." Their lips found each other, only to be parted again as their frantic pumping brought them closer to orgasm. They came with a cry – first Harry, then Draco.

Harry was the first to regain his wits and he reached up – with the hand that wasn't holding Draco's around their cocks – to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Draco's ear. When Draco looked up Harry knew that it was time for the most important question:

"Do you want to stay?"

Draco regarded him for a moment, his eyes hooded, and said: "Yes." It was as simple as that.

"Just don't get any hamster-hair onto my pillow."

"And _you'd_ better not start building a nest next to me."


End file.
